


Smooth the way 5+1

by Natsue_Yotsuki



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Assisted Suicide, Established Relationship, Euthanasia, Exorcisms, F/M, Female Crowley (Good Omens), Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Male Crowley (Good Omens), Pre-Apocalypse, Slavery, Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2020-10-21 04:03:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20687204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natsue_Yotsuki/pseuds/Natsue_Yotsuki
Summary: Living for millennia alongside humans and their tendency towards destruction, discorporation is bound to happen more than once.It is always messy and never pleasant.It's easier though when somebody smoothes the way for you.orFive times Aziraphale discorporates Crowley in love and one time in hatred1. Trapped2. Bound3. Frozen4. Burnt5. Tested5+1 BetrayedEpilogueFurther tags will be added as the story progresses





	1. Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story in a really long time... I've outlined the plot, and two chapters are already written but right now I'm kind of stuck on the third.  
But I'm trying hard to get it done.
> 
> Also, I am no native speaker, therefore I'm sorry for peculiar sentences or expressions. I did my best to make my writing clear. If you find a minor or horrific faux pas, feel free to let me know.

It was a fine sunset.

Lovely in its variety of reds, yellows, and hints of orange. And Crowley _loved_ what the light did with Aziraphales face. It caught golden in his fair hair and played around his soft cheeks. Their Angel was relaxed and downright seemed to glow. His celestial aura shone through and competed with the sunbeams.

The demon snuggled closer, trying to warm themself in the light and love radiating from their companion. Aziraphale closed up immediately and dimmed the intoxicating air.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my dear. I wasn't paying attention" Aziraphale apologized gently.

"Don't stop it. I like your warmth", Crowley insisted.

"Don't be silly, you old serpent. It's dangerous and you know it" he scolded, voice filled with fondness. He locked their hands together and brought them up to his lips, to press a kiss to their pale knuckles "I don't want my inattention to discorporate you, my dear. It's such a wonderful time to walk on Earth. The humans are finally tired of fighting and signed their peace treaty."

The Demon shrugged and remained leaned on Aziraphale, their crossed hands between them.

"You worked hard for this peace."

"And so did you!"

Crowley made a face. "No, no, no. I did certainly _not_. A demon being responsible for _peace_? That would be a funny old world, wouldn't it? I just made sure, not _everyone_ got killed in their stupid power tussle. I would become unemployed with no one left to tempt." Crowley vindicated themself but Aziraphale knew them well enough to pick out Crowleys content.

"Sorry, my mistake. You're a very wily Demon." he humoured them and was rewarded with a lopsided grin

"And you better not forget that, angel!"

Crowley let their gaze wander over the open and dry field. They saw children playing in the distance, covered in dust, happy and oh so _alive_. _Their_ children. Not by _birth_, though and neither by _adoption_ nor by any _human_ standards. But Crowley had taken them in when the children were lost and alone on the streets. Hid them when marauding troops marched through their hometown. They had _cared_ for them when no one else had.

And despite having found them parents and homes to stay, the Demon still regarded them as _theirs_.

Aziraphale had followed Crowleys gaze and now tilted his head to whisper in their ear

"You did good."

The Demon replied nothing but Aziraphale saw hints of a loving smile play around their lips.

Both entities watched the sun go down. Crowley rested their head against the angel and eventually began to doze off. Aziraphale gently shoved them off his shoulder and lowered their head unto his lap. He played with their long hair and watched Crowley fall asleep.

Crowley woke up with a start. They heard angry shouts and cries of children, as well as huffs from their annoyed Angel. Had the humans broken their truce? Did they pick up weapons _yet again_? The demon shot up and took in the sight before them - and relaxed immediately.

Aziraphale kneeled in the grass, surrounded by the kids. Two of them were hiding their faces in his robes and sobbed desperately. No one was injured, there were no guns, no angry man trying to spread death in their wake.

Crowley let out a breath they didn't realize they were holding. Relief flooded over them. It must have been a fight between the _kids_. Not even the presence of an actual _Angel of the Lord_ could prevent kids from fighting.

Crowley chuckled. They were convinced children were little _demons_ on their own. Always up to something, spreading mischief and wrapping adults around their little, clumsy, sticky fingers.

Aziraphale did his best to mediate between the fighting children and looked somehow helpless towards Crowley. The angel never had a knack for children. Sighing, they got up and sauntered over.

"Hey, you rascals, what is going on?" they inquired. One little girl let go of Aziraphale and flung herself on them. Crowley picked her up and wiped her tears away "What happened, sunshine?"

"He took my stick" she blubbered out.

"Is that so?" Crowley asked and sent a pointed look to the older boys, who were shuffling their feet uncomfortable.

"She left it on the ground, Mommy. She was not playing with it anymore!"

"Ah, I see... " they put the girl back down to the ground and beckoned all children to them.

"_'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.'_" Aziraphale muttered under his breath and Crowley made a rude gesture behind their back at him.

When the children's dispute was settled, three of them dashed off but the little boy stayed with Crowley and Aziraphale. He lifted his little hands up

"Mommy, arm!" he demanded and they cradled him on their chest

"Of course, ducky"

They didn't mind the kids calling them 'Mummy'. It was an honorary title they held with pride.

As darkness fell, they rounded up the children and started their way towards the ruined town. The little boy slept peacefully in Crowleys arms, as did the little girl in Aziraphales. The older boys were taken by the hand. It almost felt like a family, the Angel mused. He knew Crowley felt the same. He could tell by the hint of sorrow behind their sunglasses, as they handed the children over to their human families.

Crowley feigned indifference, long fingers slid into the pockets of their skinny trousers.

"So, where now?" they asked, "A miracle to the other side of the world and a spot of lunch in London, or are we going to skip eating and get inebriated right away?"

"I am not hungry, my dear." The Demon smiled at him, conveying a silent 'thank you'.

They both know, Crowley couldn't stand the company of privileged Britons right now. Not after the terrors they had witnessed these last months.

They leisurely walked down what was left of the main road. People had already begun to move debris away, eager to get a grip on retrieving their lives. Humans were astonishing.

When they arrived at Aziraphales current residence, Crowley let themself drop on the sofa and placed their sunglasses on the table. Aziraphale smiled at that

"Please be a dear and miracle us some wine, will you? I'll go and fetch some glasses" the Angel left towards the kitchen.

Crowley snapped their fingers and surveyed the label. They clicked approving their tongue.

They stood up and followed Aziraphale "Zira, take a look-" they stopped dead in their tracks, serpentine eyes wide open

"Shit"

"What is it, my dear?" The angel asked mildly concerned and turned around

"I'm being sum-"

Aziraphale didn't get to hear the rest, as Crowley vanished and the bottle shattered on the floor.

"-moned!", Crowley finished while the room around them stopped shifting.

Bookshelves were swapped out with blank metal walls, the cosy scent of wood was exchanged with a slightly damp smell and the soft shimmer of lightbulbs gave way to bright and cold neon light. The demon growled. They _hated_ being summoned. Forced teleportation gave them a headache. Also, they despised having to interact with preposterous humans, thinking they could out-smart Hell.

They took in their surroundings. It seemed they were inside a shipping container. Admittedly, that was something new. Crowley had seen their fair share of shady cellars and creepy lairs. They looked down. _Oh._ This was inconvenient...

Around the spot they were standing in, complicated patterns were drawn on the floor.

"Really?" Crowley snarled to no one in particular "You're summoning me into a _devils trap_? You have no manners" Yellow eyes searched the room "Where are you? Don't waste my time, I have an appointment."

A mop of hair appeared behind a turned over desk "So... you _are_ a Demon..." stated someone the obvious. Crowley rolled their eyes "What else am I gonna be, an _aardvark_?" They smirked at their own century-old joke.

A young man scrambled around the desk.

The demon squinted their eyes "Do I know you? I think I know you..."

"We've met before." he crossed his arms defiantly in front of his chest.

Crowley tipped their head, furrowing their brows. Suddenly they clicked their tongue "Ah, I know. You were present when they signed the peace treaty, right?"

The man nodded slightly "And so were you..."

Crowley shrugged, already annoyed with the small talk "And now? What do you want from me?"

The man lifted his chin

"Give me your name!"

"My name?" Crowley asked startled "You know who I am, you summoned me. Don't mess around with me" they watched as the human started to twist his hands

"Give me your name!", he demanded again.

Crowley licked their lips, eyes widening, as realisation dawned in them "_How_ did you summon me?" Now the man _squirmed_ uncomfortable under their scrutinizing gaze

"I took a hair..." he admitted shy.

And Crowley started to cackle "You summoned a demon without knowing _which_ one? I could be anyone...", they continued threatening "I might be _Beelzebub_, oh, I am in a war zone," they mused, "maybe I'm _War_ themself, hmmm?" They draw themself up to their full height and looked down on the human "Are you afraid, little mortal? Because you should be!" Crowley grinned and showed pointy teeth.

The man trembled and Crowley realised with a start that the term _man_ didn't fit.

The closer they looked, the more they realised, they had a mere _boy_ in front of them.

Granted, a tall boy, wrapped in grown-ups clothing and trying to pass for older than he possibly could be. One of the boys forced to grow up way to fast, while war and destruction raged around them. Crowley sighed and relaxed their posture.

"You're lucky I'm the Serpent of Eden and neither of _them_. So, what do you want?" He wondered briefly how the boy had managed to perform a summoning without a _name_ or _title_ to tag along. This was no common knowledge.

"I saw you flinch!"

"Excuse me?" Crowley raised an eyebrow. "You what?"

"I saw you flinch when they said a prayer after the treaty was signed."

"Who wouldn't?" The demon sneered but the boy wasn't distracted from talking

"And I remembered what my Granny always said. _Whoever recoils from a prayer must be a Demon_."

Crowley grew wary, quoting dead grandmothers seldom led to anything good.

"A smart women, as it seems..." they replied cautiously.

"And so I put two and two together and realised you must be the Demon accountable for this war."

"I am certainly _not_! Why would I attend the signing of a _peace contract_ if I were responsible for the _war_? This doesn't make any sense!" Crowley tried to argue. They did not like the course this conversation had taken.

"You're a Demon, deceit is what you do!"

Crowley rolled their eyes "Really? Then why did you summon me? Do you think you can _trust_ me to strike a deal with you?"

The boy was taken aback "Of course not!" He turned around and picked up an old book "I'll send you back to Hell."

Crowley stared incredulously at him. "You cannot!"

"I can, you gave me your name _Serpent_."

They scoffed "No, _you_ can not! You're not strong enough to oppose _me_. It's not my intention to get you hurt, _boy_. So open up this trap, let me get out and we won't cross paths again. No hard feelings." Crowley offered and opened their arms. The boy could get himself severely injured or even killed.

"Lies!" the boy shouted "Granny warned me, Demons lie as soon as they open their mouths. She was a good person, a powerful witch, but _your_ war killed her!" He now yelled at Crowley and angry tears started to stream down his face. So, this was it. The boy wanted _vengeance_.

The demon showed their palms in an appeasing gesture.

"This war wasn't on me. I was-"

"Lies!" the boy yelled even louder. He turned away, scribbled something - probably Crowleys name - on the floor and started lighting up candles "Granny taught me her arts. I _know_ how to send you back!"

Crowleys concern grew. They weren't confronted with a powerful wizard but with a frightened child, which couldn't anticipate the consequences of its scheme. Without a considerable amount of magical abilities to absorb or conduct the powers an exorcism set free, the boy was likely to be killed. And Crowley wasn't sure, what might happen to themself in this case. Exorcisms were rare these days because no one remembered the proper rites anymore.

The boy started chanting "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas. Omnis -"

Crowley lost track of the words, as they felt the impact of the spell. They gasped for breath as their very _soul_ was dragged downwards. The Demon staggered and landed on their knees. They tried to resist the tearing sensation on their power. They _really_ didn't intend to hurt the boy.

"Stop it!" they cried out but the boy was unyielding and kept the incantation up.

"ergo, draco maledicte, ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libe-" with a pained scream Crowleys magic shot out. Like lightning, it searched a point to strike. And found it in the unprepared boy.

But Crowley barely registered what happened to him, as they were preoccupied with the searing pain dividing their corporation. Their wings burst free and dark scales started to cover soft feathers. Their legs morphed painful into a snakes tail only to be cut apart with force again.

They had lost control, their soul stuck between Earth and Hell, equally torn apart as their corporation.

Crowley screamed themself hoarse.

* * *

Aziraphale sighed deeply when his demonic counterpart disappeared. He miracled the bottle intact and put it on the table alongside the glasses. He could wait, Crowley would be back soon. The angel picked a book and sat in the armchair.

He _felt_ the outburst of demonic power and rolled his eyes "What are you up to, you old Serpent..." he murmured fondly "Stop fooling around and come back home!"

As hours ticked away, Aziraphales discomfort grew. What could possibly take them so long? A nagging fear started to gnaw at his subconsciousness. He put the book down and snorted. _Well then_, he would go and take a look.

He miracled himself to the location where he'd felt the occult power a few hours earlier. _A container port? How peculiar_... The Angel stepped between the containers and halted. Eyes closed, he tried to pinpoint his Demon. "Ah, there you are!"

Aziraphale opened the heavy metal doors and froze. He needed to hold his nose to prevent himself from gagging. The place was pitch-black and reeked of sulphur. Something must have gone _terribly_ wrong.

He dreaded the state he might find Crowley in.

"Crowley?", he whispered in the darkness. He thought he heard a hiss, scarcely audible. "Let there be light"

Some_thing_ groaned in a non-human way. Aziraphale dimmed the light immediately

"I'm sorry, my dear. Where are you?" He looked around. Knocked over candles, an overturned desk and a _body_ for which he didn't have time.

He walked around the desk and found Crowleys' name written on the floor. Then he took in a sharp breath

"Nononono!" He hurried towards the half transformed form on the floor. Without thinking, Aziraphale broke the devil's trap and cradled Crowley in his arms

"Crowley, love... Please, look at me" but they didn't respond. They trembled uncontrollably in his arms, body still switching between human and snake. Caught between scales and feathers and skin.

Aziraphale wept freely and reached mentally out to them.

"Please, come back to me!" The Angel closed his eyes and tried to pull the parts of Crowleys soul back on Earth but to no avail.

He looked them in the eyes, searched for recognition but only found agony

"I am so sorry, my dear. It _would_ have been a wonderful time to walk this earth together." he sobbed and pressed a kiss to their temple. "I promise I'll take care of your children."

Crowley stared at him, snakelike eyes full golden, unblinking and un-recognising.

Aziraphale knew he had to complete the exorcism. A quick and merciful discorporation wouldn't assemble their shattered soul.

"I love you" He whispered between two kisses on their head and began the incantation. Crowley recoiled and screamed in silence, their voice broken hours ago. It tore at Aziraphales soul to inflict such pain to his other half.

Within minutes it was over. He pressed Crowleys body against his chest and sobbed for a long time.

He set the container on fire and stayed until all inside was burned to ashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
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	2. Bound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the next chapter...  
I updated the tags, please heed the warnings <3  
This chapter is not nice to Crowley... I'm sorry

Crowley looked herself up and down in the mirror.

Female, once again. That was nice. Same age, same flaming red hair, which flowed in thick curls over her back. Maybe some inches fewer than the last time around. Definitely less angular and more round where men _ supposedly _liked it. She made a face at her reflection.

Too bad she hadn't been granted a say this time.

After scrutinising her almost familiar face - full lips, high cheekbones and her familiar golden eyes - she followed the violent lines sprouting from under her low-cut blouse with reluctance.

They were spilling over her shoulders and flowing down towards her wrist, even crawling around her fingers.

If she didn't know already she'd messed up, this would have been her hint.

Crimson tracks all over her visible skin formed swirls, coils, occasional straight lines. She felt them crossing paths in intricate patterns over vital points of her body, where they formed ancient spells. Most of them she only recognized in parts.

She lifted her chin to inspect the runes there and sighed. _ Silence _. It seemed like, she wouldn't be allowed to speak as she wished.

Slowly, she undid the buttons to reveal more lines and a sigil the size of her palm right over her heart. _ Shit. ShitshitSHIT. Obedience. _ Tracing one of the calloused lines with her finger she shivered and stopped. Sensitive to the touch. This was _ bad. _

She traced the lines heading down towards her stomach and flowing around her hips.

Crowley turned around and pulled the hem of the fabric out of her skirt. She pulled more until she could see her entire back.

Another sigh escaped her lips. There was another one. A big one. Spreading from shoulder to shoulder, up to her neck and down to the middle of her spine. Not yet finished, as right in the centre a blank spot of untouched skin remained. She tried to make out the complicated and tiny runes in the reflection of the mirror. She recognised a sign for herself, _ Serpent of Eden _ , some signs of power, _ authority _ , _ influence _ , and then she identified another one. A feeling like ice slid down her spine. _ Slave. _Once completed, she would be bound.

Bound to _ whomever _Beelzebub thought fitting for her punishment.

As she recovered from the initial shock, she pondered whether she could perform any miracles. She rubbed concerned over the sigils on her wrists. _ Subdued _. The small pain radiating from the bloodred lines helped her to keep the rising panic at bay.

She needed to know the extent of the boundaries on her body.

She concentrated and snapped her fingers. As sunglasses appeared in her hand, she took in a sharp breath and grabbed the wall to steady herself. Small miracles it was then... Crowley looked at the rather simple pair of glasses in her shaking hand. "And nothing fancy" she murmured, while she slid them on. Crowley looked up and met her reflections now hidden gaze.

"Old habits die hard, don't they, Crawley?" a voice snarled behind her.

"It's _ Crowley _ " she muttered and made an effort _ not _to turn in a hurry while buttoning up her blouse.

"Should I thank _ you _ , for the _ addition _upon my new corporation?" she asked, gesturing up and down her body.

Ligur shrugged, while his eyes changed to a more fiery tone of red. "I wouldn't have bound you-" he said nonchalantly as he took a step towards Crowley. She didn't back away "-I'm not as _ modern _as you are - not nearly as flashy" he spat out snidely and Crowley felt again a pull inside her guts.

Ligur lifted his hand and removed the glasses from her face and if Crowleys breath hitched for just a second, maybe no one noticed.

"Oh Crawly, no need for these." Ligur showed more teeth than should have been possible or necessary and let the sunglasses drop to the floor. He grabbed her by the arm and shoved her towards the door while making sure to step on the glasses.

Crowley shrugged his hand off, took a step forward and straightened her back. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of manhandling her.

The room they arrived in consisted of barely anything. Some chairs, a Throne and a small number of higher-ranking demons.

Ligur led her in the middle of the semicircle and sat next to Hastur, who whispered something into his ear and then sneered at Crowley.

She bowed low towards the throne.

"Lord Beelzebub, it's-"

"Demon Crowley, shut up!" the loitering Prince of Hell commandeered and Crowley pressed her lips together.

"You're _ gone native _ " they spat out and let their gaze flutter over Crowleys still bowing form. "You zzeem to enjoy _ mingling _ with _ them _" they looked disgusted "so you must fazzze punishment".

Crowley looked up and swallowed dry as she glanced towards Hastur and Ligur who were scuffing and jeering at her. If she were going to be bound to one of _ them _, she was certain, it would be less than pleasant. Both of them detested her with their little minds and degraded imaginations.

As her gaze flickered back to Beelzebub she met their impatient look.

"Yes, my Lord...?" she replied in a hurry.

"You'll be send up again and will be bound."

"Bound to a _ human _, my Lord?" Crowley asked uncertainly. This was no punishment she'd ever heard of. Someone must have been feeling particularly creative.

Hastur spoke up with a sinister grin on his face "Oh, but not any human, Crowley. Farisson is one of ours. He stroke a deal with us.

"You see," Hasturs black eyes glinted with malice "he seems to have no luck with women. So he came to us and asked for help."

Crowley looked over to Beelzebub for confirmation, but they seemed no longer interested in the conversation.

Hastur continued "In exchange for his soul, he asked for the _ perfect wife _. You know, obedient, silent, eager to fulfil his whims and wishes straight away."

"And since you are lacking _ all _ these traits lately", Ligur interrupted, "we thought we should team you up. Regard it as _ re-education _, will you, Crawly?"

Crowleys rising sense of dread grew with each word she heard. Of course, she knew of Farisson. James Farisson, son of a deceased influential media mogul who squandered the absurdly amount of money his father left him. Behind closed doors, rumours spread. Stories about a violent streak, talkings of alcohol and drugs; and whispers of barely concealed hate and anger.

Crowley resumed rubbing the sigils on her wrists. _ Don't panic, don't panic, don'tpanicdon'tpanicdon'tpanic _ . She had a vivid mental picture what his conception of _ re-education _might be.

Smugly enjoying her growing discomfort, Ligur leaned forward "Any questions?" _ Don'tpanicdon'tpanicdon'tpanic _, the pain from her wrists increased with each stroke.

Crowley took a deep breath "How... How long?" she asked with an _ almost _unquivering voice.

Beelzebub decided to answer "From now on, 'till your dis-zzz-corporation or the death of the human you're bound to."

Beelzebub turned their head towards Hastur and Ligur "Take her upstairzz and complete the zzigil".

The dukes got up and grabbed Crowley harshly by her arms and snapped them away.

* * *

Crowley stood in the middle of a lavishly furnished living room. She was _ painfully _ aware of how short her black skirt was and how _ deeply _ plunging and fucking _ transparent _the white blouse was.

She felt exposed under the evaluating eyes of James Farisson, as he walked around her, touching her back, her hair, her shoulders.

_ Keep your head up, don't shiver, _ fuck _ , stop shivering. You're a Demon, for Someones sake... _She balled her fists and dug her nails in the inside of her palms.

He stopped in front of her and squinted at her face "So..." he said to no one in particular "..._ you _are worth my soul?"

Crowley wanted to reply something nasty and spit her venom at him. But as she opened her mouth, she felt the lines under her chin flare up, burning into her skin and twisting her words, before they even left the tip of her tongue. So instead, she replied "Yes".

She gritted her teeth.

Farisson turned towards the other demons in the room "What was that?", he demanded to know in a harsh tone.

"Oh, Crawly here has a thing for whispering ideas into your little human minds. Original Sin and all... We thought it would be better to silence her up a bit." Ligur nodded at Crowley, still keeping her mouth shut "And... as I recall, you asked _ specifically _for a woman who wouldn't dare to speak up to you".

With a snap, Ligur procured an old fashioned roll of parchment and broke the bloodred seal of Beelzebub.

"I assume, you take her, hm?" he asked, as Farisson took a step nearer into Crowleys personal space and she made an effort not to flinch away. He grinned and grabbed her chin with hard hands, almost enough to form a bruise. He lifted her head and traced her cheek with the back of his other hand. Crowley looked him defiantly in the eyes.

"What's wrong with her eyes? Disgusting things..."

Ligur shrugged, "Not much to be done about these, as she _ is _the Serpent of Eden..."

Farisson knitted his eyebrows together "Contacts it will be, then. What about _ these _?" he nodded towards the bindings "Quite ugly - remind me of fresh scars." He leaned in closer to inspect them and Crowley could smell the alcohol on his breath. "What are they for? Can they be removed?"

Hastur shrugged "She should be able to conceal them"

Farisson nodded and slid his hand from her chin along the crimson binding spells and Crowley took in a hissing breath.

"Ah, hurting, isn't it? Interesting" Farisson licked his lips "I wonder-" he started and slipped his fingers under the collar of her blouse "-how far these go down..."

Crowleys hand flipped up, to grab and twist his arm away from her - but she hadn't even touched him, as the crimson sigil over her heart started pulsing in a deep red shade. Crowley let out a startled cry and scratched frantically at it, trying to ease the burning pain, which began to spread along the lines over her body.

Farisson let go of her and she slid to the floor.

As Hastur started laughing, Ligur came in closer and sneered down at her

"These runes... consider them protection for yourself. And you,-" he shoved Crowley with the tip of his shoe "-you perceive them as a reminder for obedience"

Crowley stared at the carpet, still trying to regain her breath and nodded shakily.

Farisson seemed delighted, his eyes trained on Crowley "So she won't talk or fight back and will do, what I ask of her?" he asked Ligur with a greedy expression in his eyes, not looking up from Crowley.

The demon nodded "Yes. As soon as you sign the contract, we will bind her to you. So, I ask again, _ do _ you take _ her _?" He lifted the parchment once more.

Farisson sneered, as he seized it eagerly. Ligur miracled up a pen and as Farisson signed, Hastur made his way over to Crowley.

He crouched down next to her "You better be good and take your time to learn the lesson. Let it sink in, will you? No need to hurry back home!" Crowley nodded, she understood the unspoken warning. _ Don't you think you can escape your punishment by an early discorporation _

Ligur snapped his fingers and the parchment rolled itself up. Another snap and flames licked around it as the contract was transferred back to Hell. He clapped his hands "And now to the fun part" he snapped once more and Crowleys blouse vanished. Farissons gaze lingered hungrily on the newly exposed skin.

Creeps started to crawl down Crowleys arms, as Hastur pulled her up. He turned her around and traced his index finger along the markings of the sigil on her back.

She hissed and opened her mouth, but whatever she'd intended to say, remained unspoken. The spell at her chin flared up and silenced her effectively.

"That's quite a nice addition to her ever so _ charming _personality, don't you think, Ligur?" Hastur grinned and applied more pressure on Crowleys back. Her eyes widened, as the pain raced over her body. She almost toppled over, but Hastur tightened his grip around her upper arm.

Ligur and Farisson stepped over to the demons "How will it be done?" Farisson demanded to know.

"Well," Ligur snarled and procured a dagger out of thin air "it's a blood bond. You carve your name in_ here, _ " he pushed Crowleys back at the centre of the binding spell, "and add your blood. While we", he gestured towards Hastur, "take care of the spellwork. Then she'll be all yours and we're on our way. Leaving the both of you to your _ honeymoon _" 

Crowley gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. She thought she was going to be sick.

Ligur handed Farisson the dagger and stood opposite of Hastur, grabbing Crowleys other arm. 

She tried to dodge away, _ if she could get her hands free, maybe she could perform a miracle, find a way to get to Aziraphale, find her angel, besafewithherangel,beprotectedby _\- the rising panic overflowed her and again the bindings flared up and stopped her. Her head became dizzy and stars started to dance in front of her eyes.

They dragged her through one of the double doors leading to another room. She was pushed down on her knees in front of a bed. 

"Please not", she whimpered softly. 

Hastur pressed her upper body on the mattress, while Ligur spread her arms outwards and magically secured her hands. 

"Oh Crowley, I'll enjoy this" Hastur whispered in her ear and her breath hitched. Silent tears started to wet her cheeks. 

"You're pathetic..." Ligur spat at her and stood back. 

Both demons watched as Farisson crouched down behind her and began to cut her open. Crowleys vision got blurry, the lines on her body reacting to the changes in the sigil. As Hastur and Ligur started to add their magic, agony shot through her and Crowley began to scream. And then, everything went black. 

* * *

Crowley regained consciousness, due to a burning sensation between her shoulder blades and a raw feeling in her throat. She blinked and tried to shake the haziness out of her throbbing head when she registered something else. Her _ wings _were out. Whether she had manifested them by accident or by force, she couldn't tell. She huddled them close around her body and found her arms unbound. She hugged her middle and tried to take in her surroundings. She couldn't feel any demonic presence except herself, that was a plus. Crowley heard footsteps coming towards her 

"So... You're finally awake. Took you long enough!" Farisson snarled behind her. She looked up and met his lewd gaze. 

"Don't look at me with these disgusting eyes" he demanded and Crowley felt her body respond before she even considered what to do. She turned her head down again. _ stop _. 

"Get up" she did. _ Stop _. 

"Undress". _ STOP _. 

Her fingers froze in front of her waistband. 

The pain knocked her out so fast, she couldn't even make a sound. 

When Crowley woke up again, someone was _ touching _ her wings, grabbing a fistful of feathers and _ pulled _ . She let out a frightened cry. No one _ ever _had touched her wings, besides herself and Aziraphale. 

Wings were _ sacred _ , before the Fall. And now, as a Demons', they were still _ oh so _sensitive to raise lust or pain likewise. 

"There you are again... Will you _ now _listen to me?" Crowley didn't respond to Farisson, too distracted by the hand in her feathers "We'll try again, yes?" He let go of her wing and stood. 

"Get up!" 

She did. 

"Undress!" 

"Please not", she insinuated, as again tears started to well up in her eyes. The pain from her back started crawling towards her head and to the front to her chest. 

"_ Undress! _" he demanded again and she fought the urge to obey, as the ache increased, almost taking her breath. 

Farisson took a swift step towards her and backhanded her so hard, she stumbled backwards and fell on the bed. He followed Crowley on the mattress. "Undress yourself _ now _" he ordered. Crowley couldn't help but do as he wished. As she was done, he pushed her down and leaned over her. 

He pressed his thumb on the sigil over her heart "Hide these and close your eyes" 

Crowley obeyed, closed her eyes and pooled her magic. She snapped with trembling fingers. Farisson hummed appreciating 

"That's much better", he mumbled into her ear. He started touching her, kissing her 

"Do you know they promised me a virgin...?"

* * *

Aziraphale _ detested _ these kind of parties. Gatherings of _ important _benefactors of society tended to be a great deal of showmanship. Whose children attended the best school, whose company made the highest profit, who was starring in an upcoming reality show. But as an influential member of society himself, Heaven expected him to attend them sporadically. 

He drifted from one small group of humans to another. Changed a mind here, brought up an idea there. He was content with himself. He _ did _inspire goodness this evening and decided to reward himself with a snack from the overwhelming buffet, before popping off to his bookshop. He started filling his plate when he was pushed aside by a man, engrossed in a loud conversation 

"I did! James lent her to me" someone boasted, clearly drunk. 

"Nah, he didn't." his slightly less drunken friend objected, while a third man stared at him in awe. 

"His Antonia? No way!" 

"Besides, she wouldn't even _ look _at you if you were the last man on earth!" 

"I'd give a small fortune for a night with her... Those tits, that ass... And I bet she's into all the hot and kinky stuff, don't you think?" 

"Go ahead and ask James. Like I said, he's willing to share, given the right incentive." 

Aziraphale’s appetite was spoiled. He set his plate down and turned to give the men a talk about decency when one of them gestured towards the entrance 

"That's your chance, there they are... Hot damn, look at her, I would fuck her right here on the buffet..." 

Aziraphale felt himself redden with anger, ready to teach them a lesson about how to treat women when he looked up and saw _ her _. 

_ Oh! _

He would recognize Crowley in every corporation. _ His _ Demon, his companion, his _ love _ . So she was back from Hell, back in London, in _ their _ city and didn't stop by to say _ hello _? Aziraphale felt a sting to his chest. 

And to make matters worse, she was in company of the shady James Farisson. Probably presenting as his _ partner _ . Aziraphale didn't know him in person but with what he heard, he seemed fitting for the company of demons. For any Demon but Crowley, anyway. Not his gentle Crowley, who worried so much, who cultivated a _ personal _little Garden of Eden - which Aziraphale was still watering -, his caring Demon with a soft spot for humans. 

Aziraphale was disappointed. Not jealous, though. Yes, they loved each other, but not the way humans did. Aetheral - or occult, in this case - beings, who constantly changed corporations and who'd seen so much, understood their relationship in other ways than physical. (Despite being prone to indulge in more _ physical activities _ on occasion) To touch another _ body _ did not violate what they had together. To touch _ another soul _, on the other hand, was completely out of question. For both of them. 

He watched the group of men move towards the newcomers. For a split-second, he thought he saw Crowley flinch, as they approached and kissed her as a greeting, but Aziraphale waived it off. He must have been mistaken. Without much thinking, he moved his hand in a half-circle and wrecked the cars of the men in compensation. They _ had been _talking indecent about his Crowley.

She looked stunning as ever. Her red hair flowed over her exposed back. The long, midnight dress left almost nothing for imagination. Surely _ this _corporation was made to tempt without effort. And she wore no sunglasses. Aziraphale squinted, did she use contacts now? What a shame, he loved her eyes. 

He slid on a chair behind a group of people and watched. 

Crowley kept her distance to the men, avoiding the occasional brush of hands or the almost involuntary bump against her thighs. Only Farisson was constantly touching her. A hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards a free table, a too close whisper in her ear. She nodded stiffly and sat herself down with the men. 

Jammed between Farisson and the man who had been musing about her, Crowley looked miserable. She held her head low, lips pressed tightly together, shoulders slightly hunched. Farisson almost _ lay _on her, one hand between her shoulder blades, the other unseen under the table, probably on her lap. 

Aziraphale wondered why Crowley took up with them, as she obviously wanted to be anywhere but near these men. As the men started laughing, Crowley lifted her head and said something. Farissons head whipped around and again Aziraphale thought Crowley flinched just a tiny bit. Farisson didn't look pleased but nodded. As Crowley stood up, his hand remained on her back, sliding down due to her movement and rested on her buttocks. He nodded once more, said something and squeezed hard. This time Crowley definitely flinched but kept a straight face and nodded. 

Then she headed toward the exit. 

Aziraphale waited for a moment and followed her. 

As he crossed the doors he let his senses flow out to find her. He frowned. He should be able to feel her demonic presence, but there was nothing. He stopped. He'd _ seen _ her, but had he _ felt _her altogether? 

He wandered along the corridor, lost at what to do. If she'd miracled herself away, he wouldn't find her. He turned corners at random, let himself be guided by intuition. As he rounded another corner, he let out a sigh. 

_ Ah, there you are.. _. 

Standing on a balcony, elbows propped up on the balustrade, long fingers intertwined. She held her head low, as if praying. He took a step nearer and leaned himself next to her against the railing. 

Crowley didn't look up, didn't even seemed to have noticed his presence. Eyes closed, lips silently moving, she did, in fact, convey the impression of praying. 

"You're talking to Her?" he asked softly, hoping not to startle her. 

Crowley recoiled violently and almost toppled over. Aziraphale shot forward and grabbed her arm to steady her, as she cried out in pain. He froze, as he realized she had risen her hands in protection. 

"Crowley, it's me," he let go of her arms and took a step back "here, it's alright, love" Slowly Crowley lowered her arms and stared at him with wide eyes 

"Zira", she whispered, looking at him as if he was an epiphany. Aziraphale squirmed under her incredulous stare. She didn't talk but gazed unblinking at him. As though she feared he might vanish when she closed her eyes for a second. 

He reached out to her. "What happened?", he asked in a soft voice. 

She lowered her eyes from his face to his hand. She held her breath and took it. The instant they touched, her knees buckled and Aziraphale hurried to catch her. She clawed at his lapels, started trembling and sobbing. 

Aziraphale hold her in a tight embrace and stroked her hair. He worked a miracle, to keep them hidden from prying eyes and ears, as he waited for her to calm down to talk. 

Eventually, they slid to the ground, Crowleys head rested at his chest. Her breathing evened out and she stopped shivering. 

"What happened?", he asked again 

"Hell happened" she answered with a timid voice. "I was-" she stopped abruptly, grabbed her throat and winced in pain. Aziraphale watched in horror as she appeared incapable of breathing. Tears welled up in her eyes. Aziraphales voice rose in panic when her eyes rolled back and she tipped over 

"Crowley!" Aziraphale slid his hands frantic over her twitching body, trying to find the cause of her suffering. She was _ choking _and he was forced to watch helplessly. He barely registered his own tears flowing down his cheeks. He'd just found her again. He pulled her in a tight embrace and whispered declarations of love in her ear. 

And all of sudden it was over. 

She started breathing again and opened her eyes. She looked disoriented up at him, weeping above her and cradling her upper body. He plastered her face with kisses. She looked as if dreaming and put her hand gently on the back of his head 

"I wish you'd be real", she slurred. 

"I am very real, my dearest" Aziraphale mumbled against her lips. She shook her head and smiled so forlorn, Aziraphales chest hurt. 

"You never are..." 

"I _ am _here, love", he insisted "Here, sit up", he shoved her back gently up, then miracled a glass of water "drink, please" 

To his surprise, Crowley complied without hesitation. As she had downed the glass her head seemed to clear up and she focused on Aziraphale. 

"I'm sorry for this mess..." 

"Please, don't apologize. I thought you were going to discorporate." Aziraphale committed, but Crowley shook her head 

"No, _ this _ won't discorporate me. That's Farissons _ privilege _" she admitted defeatedly. Aziraphale stared at her in shock 

"What does this mean?" Crowley shied away from his stare and pulled her knees under her, sitting opposite of him. 

"I can't talk but I might show you..." she made a gesture like a stage magician and mimicked pulling a scarf from her arm. 

Aziraphale took in a sharp breath, as violent red scars bloomed on Crowleys skin, next to bruises and scratches, cuts and wounds in different stages of healing. Crowley had her head turned away, eyes firmly closed and biting her lip 

"Oh my dear..." Aziraphale murmured. 

The demon tipped her head backwards and exposed her chin. _ Silence _ . Then she slowly stretched her arms toward him, showing the sigils engraved there. _ Subdued _. Aziraphale knew he could not heal her, but he could soothe her pain a bit. He took her hands gently in his to bless her but she tried to pull away. 

"Please don't" she breathed, as she blushed with shame. He neither held her nor let go. Crowleys resistance crumbled immediately. 

"I won't hurt you!" Aziraphale promised with an uneasy feeling that she surrendered so easily. He brought her hands slowly to his lips and blew a kiss on her wrists. 

She groaned, as his breath touched her skin. The harsh crimson lines smoothed themselves to a less violent shade of red. Not gone, but Aziraphale slowed the magic flowing within the runes down. He wasn't sure, how long it would lessen the influence, but Crowley sighed with relief and opened her eyes. Still avoiding Aziraphale's gaze. With slow and trembling fingers she removed the collar of her dress to reveal the sigil right over her heart. _ Obedience _. 

Aziraphale carefully leaned closer. He touched her shoulder where no green or blue bruises were visible.

"May I?" he asked. Crowley answered with a tiny nod. He lowered his head and blew another kiss on her skin. Some of the tension in her shoulders seemed to melt away. She even smiled at him. He made a questioning gesture at her chin and waited. She nodded again and exposed her throat to him. He repeated his miracle and Crowley made a relieved sound. Aziraphale watched as she cautiously rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck and arms. 

"Are there more?" he asked gently, following the lines with his eyes, looking warily at her shoulders. The demon froze. So he was right... 

"There's one more" she mumbled. "The worst... I- I'm so sorry, angel" 

Crowley turned hesitating around. She drew her hair aside and over her shoulder. Then she hid her blushing face behind her hands. 

Aziraphale stared horrified at her back. In the heap of sigils, three stood out. _ Serpent of Eden _ , _ James Farisson _ and worst of all _ Slave _. 

"Oh, love", he breathed out. He looked closer, examined the omnipresent wounds on Crowleys back. The crisscrossing _ scars _underneath them. 

"How long...?" Aziraphale asked, not sure whether he did want to get an answer. Crowley shook her head. He nodded. Judging by the state of her back, he estimated at least five years. 

"Crowley, may I try to bless this one also?" he questioned her softly. 

"I was _ praying _ for Her to smite me... Instead, She sent _ you _. Do as you please, it seems to be Her will" Aziraphale was sure he'd never heard Crowleys voice sounding so defeated. 

And it broke his heart. 

He touched her delicately on the shoulders and worked his magic. Once finished, he rounded her and kneeled down in front of her. Tears were streaking down her face again 

"I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?" 

She shook her head. "I was in constant pain for _ years _now..." 

Seeing her, with arms wrapped tightly around her stomach, bruised, bound and oh so utterly _ terrified _ , Aziraphale felt righteous anger rising and it took him no small effort to _ not _ go and smite James Farisson on the spot. Crowley needed him right here and now. His demon had been _ praying _ , for Heavens sake. And while he knew, she was prone to yelling and scrutinizing Her, he was also sure, she never asked for _ obliteration _before. 

Aziraphale opened his arms invitingly "Where is it safe to touch you?" 

Crowley huffed "It doesn't matter, does it? There is no _ safety _ for me anymore." she hunched her shoulders, waiting for the sigil on her chin to silence her. But it seemed to be curbed by Aziraphales blessing. She resumed talking "You eased the bondings, but _ he _ touched _ everything _else" she spoke so timidly, if he hadn't paid so much attention to her, he would have missed it. 

"You could be safe with me" he replied cautiously and fully aware, that his proposal lingered insanely close to exposing their relationship to their respective head offices. He suggested _ treachery _. 

Finally, Crowley looked up 

"No"

"But-", she stopped him from talking by moving closer and resting her forehead at his chest. 

"What are the odds?" she mumbled, "I've had plenty of time to plan, rethink and discard all kinds of ideas. I _ discorporate _ myself? I'll end up in Hell, Beelzebub gets pissed and starts over. I somehow get _ him _ killed? Beelzebub gets also pissed and Farisson gets replaced. Nothing to win there. I escape? Get out and try to hide? Well, this one I _ did _ " Crowley started rambling, getting angry "I managed to get away. I almost hitchhiked my way up to Manchester. With _ this _body it was easy, you know what some men will do, if you give them a promising look" She laughed bitter 

"Guess I've roughed up..." She hesitated "I think I was about five hours gone when _ someone _ noticed. I _ felt _ Farissons anger. Felt his _ command _ to return and I- I-... " she trailed off and Aziraphale waited for her to continue. "I tried to defy him, but to no avail. I passed out, I think... and then... then... Angel, I think I miracled myself back to _ him _ . I _ returned _on my own account!" she whimpered and shook violently. 

Aziraphale held her close, trying to soothe her 

"My dear, you didn't. He forced you to return. Nothing of this is your fault!" 

Crowley didn't listen, too caught up in her memories. "He was _ so _ incredibly angry... It was worse than ever. He and his _ friends _ took rounds with me. Forced themselves on me. They..." she broke off and hid her face behind her hands, tears falling freely "When Farisson brought the Holy Water I was _ so _ grateful. I expected it to end. I _ wanted _it to end. Once and for all... " she trailed off.

"What happened then?" Aziraphale asked softly 

"He diluted it. Drenched me and left me lying for days on end. I drifted in and out of consciousness. I dreamt of you, prayed to you. I wanted to say my goodbyes..." she confided.

"I'm so sorry, my dear. I didn't hear you" Aziraphale whispered and felt his own tears fall from his face 

"When I felt the Holy Water digging into my very soul I was ready to embrace death. Instead, _ he _came in, forced me in the shower and washed away the Holy Water..." 

Crowley fell silent. 

Aziraphale replied nothing. After a while, he asked her "Why didn't you come to my bookshop. I would have protected you." 

"I know, angel... You would have granted sanctuary to a Demon and then what? Heaven rejects you, you Fall and we'll end up both as prisoners in Hell? Besides he would have commandeered me back to him." 

Aziraphale gestured towards the sigils "We get rid of these! I have plenty of books, I _ will _find a way!" Crowley shook her head once more "The bindings are a vital part of this corporation. It was made this way. Almost all sigils, runes and spell work were already engraved when I got corporated. The only way to get rid of them is to be discorporated and get a new body." Aziraphale wanted to object but didn't know what to say. It was much to process. They sat in silence.

Eventually, Crowley started to drift off and Aziraphale miracled a soft blanket for her. When he looked closer, he could see the traces of Holy Water left on her skin. Burn marks, faintly visible under more recent bruises and scars. 

He wasn't sure, but the joints on _ both _ of her wrists didn't seem to be perfectly aligned. Probably broken and badly healed. He _ needed _to find a way to help her... 

Crowley awoke with a startled cry of pain. She tried hastily to disentangle from the blanket as she stood up on trembling feet. 

"I need to go, he's started looking for me, he will be furious," she started and tried to snap with shaking hands "I have to cover up, he doesn't want anybody to see, I cannot-" Aziraphale stopped her panicked rambling with a gentle touch to her forehead. He worked a miracle to calm her down 

"Shh, love. let me help, yes?" she nodded, her panic subsiding. 

"But first...", Aziraphale snapped "I distracted him. He won't be looking for you all too soon, alright?" he took her hand and pulled her down with him "I've had an idea. Will you listen?" She nodded and slid to the ground next to him. "When I found you earlier, you were praying", he stated and Crowley nodded slowly, not sure, what Aziraphale was up to. "I think She listened" 

Crowley snorted but didn't object 

"I was searching for you but I couldn't find you, couldn't _ feel _you. But I'm convinced, She guided my steps. I was wandering the floors aimlessly until I found you." Crowley furrowed her brows but said nothing 

"And therefore I think, She wants me to help you. I could do _ this _for you" he offered "I distract Farisson, you have time to rest. I give you my blessing to soften the bindings and you can heal yourself. We can keep this up until I find a way to free you from him." 

"There is no way to-" 

"I _ will _ find a way to free you from him, which does _ not _involve discorporation or destroying you." Aziraphale interrupted. 

Crowley looked at him thoughtfully. "On one condition, Angel," she answered and waited for his nod "Don't make yourself Hells target!" 

"I promise" Aziraphale pledged truthfully. 

* * *

They had a new arrangement. 

By day, Aziraphale would pore over his books, tome after tome, searching for a solution. But in the nighttime, he stayed with Crowley.

Around three in the morning, Aziraphale would snap himself in Farissons urban villa, disguised in layers of miracles to move unseen between the humans. He would find Crowley, make her sleep and slack the boundings. Sometimes, he needed to send Farisson to sleep, sometimes he distracted him so he would stay away. But sometimes Farisson was _ not yet done _ and Aziraphale had to _ watch _in silence, not daring to disturb, so they wouldn't raise suspicion.

It went as good as could be expected under the circumstances. Some nights were bad, some were worse.

But then it went all pear-shaped.

It was a slow change and when Aziraphale realized their mistake, it was already too late. It started with an occasional fractured wrist or rip. Far between, so Crowley could heal. Sometimes, it was a cut _ slightly _deeper than before. Then it began to accumulate. Crowley wasn't granted the chance to heal anymore.

One night, as Aziraphale searched for Crowley, he found Farisson and some of his friends sitting around a table, littered with empty bottles. He wanted to sneak past when a sentence stopped him dead in his tracks. 

"I'm trying to detect, how much she can take before she snuffs out..." Farisson boasted. His friend was surprised 

"I thought, your deal ends when she dies." 

Farisson shrugged "Yeah, but she kind of _ bores _me..." 

"Are you fucking kiddin' me? This 'woman' -", he made air quotes, "- is the _ hottest _ fuck one may ever get! And she is _ completely _under your spell! You command and she obeys."

Farisson shrugged again "Yeah..." he drawled.

Aziraphale's blood turned cold. It was his fault. _ He _had distracted Farisson so often, he now was under the impression that he wasn't interested in Crowley anymore. He'd inflicted even more pain and agony on her. He hurried to find her, fearful about in which state she might be.

Aziraphale found Crowley in one of the seldom-used rooms in the basement. Fear washed over him when he walked in. The demon was chained to the opposing wall, arms stretched achingly far above her head. She was naked and Aziraphale didn't dare to think of the implications by this. 

When he got closer, he realised she was kneeling in a puddle of blood. He saw slashes on her forearm, over her chest and delicately carved cuts directly under her breasts. 

Her legs and thighs were no better and he couldn't help but notice, that no small amount of the blood seemed to pour from between her legs. He felt nauseous.

Crowleys head hung low unto her chest. She didn't stir when he crouched down next to her. Her gaze was firmly fixed on a spot in front of her. 

"Hold on, my Love" Aziraphale whispered into her ear, as he started to loosen up the chains. He looked closer. Not only chains but _ blessed _chains. Over the clanging, he almost missed, that Crowley was trying to say something. 

Aziraphale leaned in and listened. 

"Angel... Please..." she whimpered 

"Yes, my Love?" 

"End it..." 

It broke Aziraphales' heart to hear her begging. 

"I'm so inconceivable sorry" he uttered sadly. 

Slowly she lifted her head up and Aziraphale saw her golden eyes in the dim light of the room. Her real and beautiful snake-eyes, now blown wide with fear and anguish. On her left temple was a gruesome gash, spilling blood over her face. 

"Please, I can't take it anymore..." She pleaded again with him. 

He let go of the chains and touched her unhurt cheek with the back of his hand 

"What will happen then?" he asked softly and kissed her lips comfortingly. They had this conversation a few times already 

"I am so sorry. You said Beelzebub would resume the punishment in case you weren't discorporated by _ him _.“, he reminded her. „And we talked about this, Love, my divine intervention would raise more questions to your loyalty. I am truly sorry, my dear. I-"

Aziraphale was cut off when the door opened. He frantically checked his concealing miracles, to make sure to remain unseen by human eyes. 

Farisson staggered in, clearly drunk and angry. 

"You!" he yelled at Crowley who cringed violently. He made his way with faltering steps towards her "It's your f-fff... Your... f-fffault..." he slurred. He flopped down in front of her and groped her chin. He jerked it up and stared at her. She averted her eyes. 

"Yes, it is," she replied and Aziraphale saw several of the sigils on her body react. She said, what Farisson wanted to hear. 

"You think... you're so... Ss- ssso clever, don't you? To give my friends the eye..." He started shaking her head "Maybe... I should take them... Hmmm?" He reached out and fiddled with a box next to Crowley. Her breath quickened and her panicked gaze shot to the Angel. 

When Farisson opened the box, Aziraphale saw a selected assemblage of all kinds of torture devices. Crowley whined. He took out a pricker and stumbled back to Crowley.

He undid the cuffs with clumsy fingers and Crowley fell to the floor. "Please not!" She begged and tried to get away from him. "Stop. Turn 'round and kneel before me" he demanded and Crowley _ complied _immediately.

The _ thrill _of her panic seemed to clear his head a bit. He grinned down at her. "Good girl. Head up" he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled back, exposing her throat. He pressed the tip of the bricker to the flesh under Crowleys left eyeball with unsteady hands. She shivered fiercely but didn't dare to move away.

"You belong to me" he murmured and slid the tip away from her eye, over her cheekbone. Strong enough to leave a thin incision in its trail. He moved further down the side of her face and rested the tip against her pulse, thrusting enough to draw blood. 

"Please..." Crowly begged again. 

Farisson laughed but Aziraphale knew her plea wasn't meant for _ him _. He moved in Crowleys sight and nodded solemnly "I love you..." She nodded slightly, closed her eyes and sighed with relief. Aziraphale put a step forward and placed his hand around Farissons'. The human was too inebriated to realize he wasn't in control of his actions any more. They quickly pushed the tip deeper, then pulled the bricker swiftly out. Blood spilt from the fresh injury and flowed down over their hands. Aziraphale loosened his grip on Farisson and caught Crowley when she toppled over. He laid her down carefully. "I love you" he repeated and she smiled. Her lips moved but she made no sound. "Thank you" she mouthed before her eyes fluttered shut and her breathing ceased.

Aziraphale took a deep breath and turned her body around. He needed to check the sigils. "Thank God", he whispered. The runes between her shoulder blades were gone. She wasn't bound to this _ monster _anymore.

Aziraphale left the house, leaving behind a distraught James Farisson who couldn't comprehend _ how _he ended up murdering his perfect pet demon.

* * *

James Farisson was later accused and found guilty of abusing and killing his wife Antonia Jennifer Farisson. As the trial evolved, more and more women spoke up and brought charges against him. Five days after his incarceration, media reported a mental breakdown of unknown origin. Farisson was relocated to a psychiatric ward and died soon after from a mysterious heart attack alone in his cell.

Crowley never asked Aziraphale if he knew who might have had a hand in these affairs.

He knew his angels answer anyway _ "Ineffable, my dear" _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	3. Frozen

_ 'Stop complaining, for Hellzzz zzake. Just go and retrieve the artefact' _ Yeah... This should be easy. A piece of cake, actually. Crowley rolled her eyes. _ No problem at all _ . She mocked in her head and made a face. It was merely _ friggin' _ Antarctica. No obstacles _ with that _.

"Don't pull a face, my dear" she was scolded, "it's a nasty habit!"

She poked her tongue out at the amused Angel. "I am a Demon. _ Nasty _ is exactly what it says on the tin.", she said and Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "And right now, I'm also _ spitting mad _" she grouped.

"I know, my love. Here, let me help." He snapped and on the heap of clothes lying on her bed, manifested another overcoat.

Crowley lifted an eyebrow "Really, Angel? _ Tartan _ ? You expect me to wear _ tartan _?" She probed the fabric "It's warm though. I change the colour and it will be splendid-"

Aziraphale stopped her mid-snap "First, Tartan _ is _ stylish and second, I don't expect _ you _ to wear it. This one is for _ me _ ." He tossed her a black overcoat " _ This _one is for you, obviously."

Crowley stared at him "Are you insane? How much wine did you have? You _ can't _come!"

The Angel fidgeted with the ring on his pinky, not looking at her. "Well, since you were clearly _ concerned _ -", he didn't say _ scared stiff _"-about your assignment, I decided you'd need a helping hand." He lifted his head and searched her eyes "After all, that's what we do, isn't it? Look out for each other..."

Crowley shook her head "You can't be serious!", she hissed "Zira, this place is...-" she waved her hands as if she tried to grab words from thin air "-It's _ Cursed _ Ground, for Go-, Sat-, Someone's sake. Virtually the opposite of _ Holy _ Ground. Do you know, what would happen if _ I _ were to walk into a church? Hm?" she didn't give him time to answer "No, you don't know. And neither do _ I _ . _ Nobody _ knows! And why? Hm, Angel, _ why _ ?" She barked and began pacing the room. "Because it would be a darn stupid idea to go and try, that's why. And the same applies to Angels and Cursed Grounds. You _ must not _come!", she declared firmly.

In the course of her rant, Aziraphale had left his armchair and walked toward her. He placed his arms around her and pulled her close. Crowleys anger ebbed immediately.

"It could _ kill _you, Zira. Permanent." She pressed her head against the curve of his neck.

"It won't" he reassured her, caressing her back

"It would be _ boring _without you... I am selfish, who else should I spent Eternity with?"

"Well, my love, I am a little selfish myself, you know? I don't want to see you discorporated. Not again. I'm tired of waiting for you to pop back into my life." He enunciated and started to draw little circles on her back.

She moved herself further into his embrace. "I don't want you to come" she whispered, "a mere corporation is nothing, compared to your eternal Soul. It's not worth the risk"

Aziraphale hummed disapprovingly but kept his mouth shut. They both knew they wouldn't work out an agreement.

Aziraphale slid his hands down to her waist in one delicate movement and resumed to draw circles on her body.

"Are you trying to distract me?" Crowley cooed.

"Maybe," he confessed, "Is it working?"

She laughed and made a small gesture with her hand. The clothes on the bed vanished. She took him by the hand and pulled him on the covers. "Come here..."

Later they lay next to each other, still breathless from their recent activities. Aziraphales fingertips wandered over Crowleys arm. He sat up, still gently stroking and caressing towards her shoulders. She turned on her stomach to grant him better access to her back.

"Would you manifest your wings for me?" he asked timidly.

She smiled at him and rolled her shoulders. Black wings spread out over her naked body, covering her completely.

He took in the sight. Her long primaries and secondaries lay somewhat ruffled about each other. Nonetheless iridescent even in the dim light of the bedroom.

She rustled her feathers "You want to touch, Angel?" She offered and rested her head on an arm.

"It would be an honour, my love" the Angel reached out and started grooming. She sighed with content and closed her eyes.

"I was thinking..." Aziraphale began slowly.

"Zira, please not again" Crowley groaned and pulled her wing out of his hand. She got up and sat opposite to him.

He rested his hands on his lap, regretting the loss of her feathers under his fingertips "I'm not talking about accompanying you" he assured her.

She lifted an eyebrow.

"Do you trust me?" he waited for her to nod, before he explained. "Most years you're not able to endure even a _ mild _ winter in London. How do you intend to cope with _ Antarctica _?"

"Like Humans," Crowley shrugged, drawing a blanket over her legs and up her body "Copious quantities of clothing. And a huge number of miracles"

Aziraphale nodded "But what do you normally do, in winter in London?"

"If I happen to stay, I hole up in your Bookshop."

"Exactly! And therefore I-"

"If you dare to suggest to come along one more time, I will miracle you back into your bookshop" she interrupted and lifted her fingers in a threatening way.

He shook his head.

"I could give you my blessings"

He looked at her expecting.

She stared at him unbelieving.

"Are you bloody insane? Are you suggesting some kind of crazy _ suicide pact _?"

"Of course not!", he looked offended "_ My _ blessings, not _ Hers _ . I thought about this for quite some time now..." He returned her stare steady and warm "What I intend to do is based on _ our Love _, not on Her Grace"

"You are nuts. Completely out of it" she snapped at him

"Do you trust me?" He repeated his question, searching her eyes

She nodded "I do. But this-" she gestured vaguely around her head "-is a new level of crazy!"

"Listen to me," he demanded, "You and I spent more time together than any other Angel and Demon ever have."

"Yeah...?" Crowley replied, not sure, where this conversation was going.

"We touched each other in ways, no Angel _ ever _ touched a Demon and no Demon _ ever _touched an Angel before." he disclosed somewhat proud.

Crowley furrowed her brows "I know all of this. Let's have it, Angel, what's your plan?"

"No, listen, you need to understand! We did plenty of things, that no one knew an Angel and a Demon _ could _ share. If I shift the footing of my magic away from Faith to _ Love _, I can use it for you. Because my Love for you is bigger than my love for anything else."

"Careful, Angel, that's awful close to blasphemy," Crowley warned softly, eyes shining golden and cheeks slightly blushing.

Aziraphale reached out his hand to her and she took it "There's nothing false with loving Her creation, my dear. I'm sure, I can bless you with my Love."

Crowley shot him a sceptic look "I'm not keen on serving as your guinea pig..."

Aziraphale gave her an apologetic look "You don't have to... Please, don't get mad, will you?" he made a complicated gesture with his free hand and a wooden box manifested between them.

Crowley let go of his hand and traced the delicate carvings on the cover "What did you do, Angel?" she inquired and rested her fingers on the fastening, waiting for his permission to open it.

He made a shy gesture to the box "Open it up..."

She unlocked it carefully and gasped "That's one of mine!" She exclaimed unbelievingly. The box was lined with red velvet, in a shade similar to Crowleys hair. A long black feather, edges slightly singed, had been placed in it carefully. "Where did you get it?"

Aziraphale twisted his hands "Do you remember Pompeii?"

She nodded, how could she ever forget this horrible place. "My wings got burnt and you helped me to remove some of the primaries and secondaries..." her thoughts lingered for a moment at the painful memory. "But we burnt them. Or so I thought..."

Aziraphale nodded, "We did. All but this one... I couldn't. It was the first time you granted me access to your wings and-" he stopped for a moment, to search her eyes for anger, but found none "-I wanted to keep a memory..." he confessed. _ A memory of the Demon who got hurt for helping Humans escape. _

Crowley let out a fond laugh "Oh Zira, you stupid, old, sentimental Angel..." she picked up the feather delicately and held it up. She traced her fingers over the damaged parts "Do you want me to heal it?"

It was Aziraphales turn to blush "No," he mumbled "like this, it reminds me of your kindness"

"I am not kind..." Crowley chided. She passed it to him carefully.

Aziraphale handled the feather like a treasure. He turned it in the light and Crowley watched it reflect the whole colour range.

"Look," Aziraphale whispered and blew gently. The colours reflected by the black changed from iridescent to a golden shimmer. "This is my blessing." He held the feather towards her.

Crowley probed it gingerly between her fingers "It _ isn't _holy?!" she took the feather and examined it completely baffled. She felt it emitting Aziraphales love and warmth.

"As you see, the feather is not harmed. But sadly it can't heal you. Also, its virtue wears off with time." Aziraphale conceded apologetically.

"Zira, it feels wonderful..." Crowley whispered in awe.

"So... May I give you my blessing?"

Crowley didn't answer right away. She put the feather back in the box and closed it carefully. After a moment of consideration, she nodded "I _ do _trust you. What do you need me to do?"

Aziraphale beamed and pulled her in his arms. He placed a tender kiss on her lips "Thank you" he whispered.

"Please come to the edge of the bed and spread your wings, my Love" He requested and got up from the mattress.

Crowley moved to kneel in front of him, heels tucked under her. Biting her lip, she searched his gaze.

He smiled and ran soothing fingers through her hair "I won't hurt you" he promised. She nodded and closed her eyes, heart beating wildly in her chest.

Aziraphale bent over and cradled her head. He pressed a kiss to her crown and let his hands slowly descent unto her shoulders. He tried to knead the tension out before he slid his hands to her wings. He traced the soft feathers and let his fingers rest gingerly on her alulas.

"Ready?" he gulped.

She nodded in silence.

Aziraphale concentrated on his love for her and pooled his magic. He blew on her hair and worked his blessing into her wings.

Suddenly she shuddered violently and let out a startled cry. He stopped alarmed and pulled his hands away. "Love, what's wrong?" he inquired hastily.

Crowley pushed herself up and flung her arms around his neck. She opened her eyes and met his gaze with dilated and lust-blown pupils.

"Oh Angel," she all but begged, "_ please _ , do _ that _again."

He sighed in relief and resumed his magic. Crowley moaned in pleasure and pressed herself against him.

The more magic he worked, the more ragged her breathing became.

He felt the impact of his love on her, as well as on himself. Her naked body pressed close to his equally naked corporation didn't help either.

He finished his blessing and groaned simultaneously with her. He lifted her from the bed, long legs wrapped around his waist. He shoved her up against the wall and started nibbling on her neck. She purred seducing and let her head fall back _ "Oh Angel..." _

* * *

Aziraphale enjoyed the calm and peaceful air of Crowleys bedroom. He sat propped up against the headboard, wings spread out and a book in one hand. His other hand rested on Crowleys scales. The Demon had shifted into her serpentine form in the middle of the night. And now she lay coiled in on herself next to him, huddled against his thigh.

Aziraphale felt the unusual heat her body gave off. Naturally, her scales felt cold to the touch and she craved to absorb his body heat. But now he could feel a tinge of himself on her. The blessing still warmed her up and slackened her posture. He hadn't seen her so at ease in a long time. He smiled down at her.

It was a shame she had to go to Antarctica. Aziraphale secretly assumed it was Beelzebubs way of giving her a slap to the wrist. A warning for her to behave. In his opinion, this assignment aimed at her discorporation. Why else would they send a Demon with a _ reptilian _ constitution instead of an _ ice _demon?

He didn't need to share his concerns with Crowley. She was well aware of the implications herself. Sadly she was also very adamant when it came to her own will. She would never _ allow _him to accompany her.

Aziraphale gathered his magic and stroked the shimmering black scales. She refused to tell him when she was due to go, so he had to keep up his blessing. He didn't want it to cease too soon. She would need all the warmth she could get, to survive the biting cold of Antarctica.

He traced twine after twine, leaving imprints of his magic.

Crowley stirred and lifted her peaky head out of the heap of coils. She tasted the air and yawned, unhinging her jaw.

"Good morning, Angel" she hissed slightly slurred. She slithered over his lap and wound herself up his arm, knocking the long-forgotten book out of his hand.

She nuzzled the crook of his neck and he squirmed. He shrugged her of his shoulder "Stop tickling me..."

The snake hissed and meandered to his back, sliding around the joints of his wings, before she rested her head on his shoulder again.

He proceeded to anoint her with his blessings and she hummed.

Aziraphale lamented that he couldn't provoke the same reaction as the previous evening. She was probably still _ filled up _with his love.

"How do you feel?"

"Resssted", she hissed in his ear "and warm. I have to admit, your blessing did wondersss"

Aziraphale knew snakes were anatomically unable to smirk but Crowley managed anyway.

"And... I love you too, my Angel..." she whispered softly in his ear.

A few days later Aziraphale felt Crowley miracle herself away from London.

* * *

_ Stupid _ cold; _ stupid _ Beelzebub, with their _ stupid _artefact.

Crowley stumped miserably through the snow.

_ Stupid _ Amundsen, trying to reach the Southern Pole; _ stupid _ cold; _ stupid _vault in the middle of nowhere.

She pulled the mitten off her left hand with her teeth. Her fingertips were already miscoloured and started getting numb. With trembling fingers she snapped and procured a glowing arrow, floating above her exposed palm. She held it in front of her and it sprung to life like the needle of a compass. She was close. With another snap, the arrow disappeared and her hand was gloved again.

_ Stupid _ snake for arguing with Aziraphale and running off before he reforged the blessing; _ stupid _ warding, preventing her from miracling herself right into the vault and _ bloody stupid _Cold, creeping through her multiple layers of clothing.

Crowley reached the vault and examined the door. _ Of course _it would require blood to open the damn thing up. She detested Hells' lack of originality. Pulling off her glove again, she ignored the way not only her fingertips were coloured now. She brought her hand up to her fangs and bit down hard enough to draw blood. It spilled on the carvings of the door and it opened itself.

Crowley entered. At least the vault shielded her from the icy wind.

As the door closed behind her, the walls lit up and illuminated a narrow corridor. She sauntered in and pulled off the other mitten as well. She dropped them casually on the floor. The colours of her fingers had changed to blue. She resisted the human mannerism of breathing on them, it wouldn't do her any good, as she had no body heat to warm her breath. She rubbed her hands together and produced a little flame between her palms. She balanced it gingerly on one hand and pulled the hood from her head.

Flamelets danced around her fingertips as she brought her fingers to her face, cradling the little source of warmth. She pressed the flame to her lips and basked in it. She closed her eyes. These flames couldn't burn her, they were _ hers _ . Crowley opened the zip of the overcoat Aziraphale'd miracled for her and let the flame slid inside, willing it to _ not _set her clothes ablaze. Too bad she couldn't produce the fire outside of this vault. She rubbed her hands again. Aziraphales' blessing had been wearing off shortly before she'd arrived at the vault. She was cold.

Crowley followed the corridor to a small octagonal chamber. It appeared to be empty but she knew better than that. She shrugged out of her overcoat - thankful for the temperature above freezing - and placed it on the ground. She sat down cross-legged and coaxed the flame away from her chest. "There you are," she mumbled gently. Carefully she lifted it to her mouth, touched it with her lips and whispered an incantation. The fire blazed up and she put it on the ground.

She reopened the wound on her hand and rivulets of blood mixed with fire. Its colour changed from warm orange to a crimson red, mimicking the shade of her blood. Her head started to get dizzy. Crowley intoned another incantation. And the fire started to spread. She staggered to her feet and picked up her overcoat . She watched the flames draw complicated patterns on the ground.

A circle burned in front of her feet and she stepped in. She closed her eyes and felt through the air, then she _ seized _something.

When she left the circle, the fire died and she held a heavily warded metal chest in her hands.

Crowley set it aside and kneeled down. "Almost done" she muttered and examined her left hand. She couldn't _ feel _ her fingers anymore, let alone _ move _them. The combination of iciness and blood magic had taken its toll. But nothing to do about this now.

She fetched a piece of chalk out of her pocket and drew a ring on the slab. She connected more circles to it, some sharp lines and pointy edges. Then she began to write inside. Enochian letters flowed from her hand and unto the sigil. She needed to perform one last blood miracle.

Once more she ripped her hand open and pressed her bloody palm against the dusty lines on the ground. She started chanting

"Lord Beelzebub, hear my pledge and accept my offering" the circle started to shimmer and she thrust more of her power into it. "Lord Beelzebub, hear my pledge and accept my offering", she repeated, slightly breathless. Little stars started to dance in front of her eyes and she felt dizzy. "Lord Beelzebub, hear my pledge and accept my offering" she gave a last push and the sigil flowed with her blood.

"Do you have it?" Beelzebubs' voice snarled over the connection.

"Yes my Lord, I do"

"What are you waiting for, zzzend it through" they ordered impatiently.

Crowley took the chest and smeared it with her blood, so it could pass through to hell. She pushed it into the centre and watched it go down in her blood.

Beelzebub made an acknowledging noise and cut the connection shut.

Crowley let herself fall to the ground and closed her eyes. _ Just a moment... _

* * *

Something tried to lure her away from the sweet nothingness of sleep. Crowley turned around, mumbling incoherently. She curled in on herself, limbs tangled and twisted in ways, no human body should be forced into.

She was cold and tired but something kept _ nagging _on the back of her mind and kept her from returning to sleep.

She decided to ignore it.

Nonetheless, the sensation kept pestering and pulling at her. She groaned and sat up. She forced down vertigo by sheer willpower.

"Bloody stupid blood rites" she cussed and pressed the fingers of her right hand over her eyes.

What _ had _woken her up?

Crowley closed her eyes and let her senses wander.

_ There! _

She felt it again. A faint whisper, too distant to make out words but the connotation urgent enough to not be dismissed easily.

A smile played around her lips. _ Aziraphale. _ Who else would try to reach out to her. She traced the sensation and thrust her magic in it. _ "I'm here, Angel." _ she wasn't sure but she believed the _ nagging _ceased and made room for a more relieved whisper. She knew she should be angry. Stupid and stubborn angelShe pushed herself up and leaned against the wall. Taking a deep breath she braced herself and followed the corridor with faltering steps.

Before putting on her overcoat she checked her left hand. Blue fingers stood in contrast to the still oozing gash on her palm. Carefully she traced it with a finger, trying to mend the margins of the wound. It didn't heal but formed a scab.

"This has to be enough for now..." she mumbled to herself. She fastened up her overcoat and put on the mittens. Wrapping her scarf around her face she opened the door. _ Of course _, the icy wind hadn't stopped. She pulled the hood closer and stepped into the snowstorm, as the vault grumbled to dust.

* * *

Aziraphale had miracled himself to Antarctica, as he felt Crowley disappear from London. He knew he wouldn't be able to find her once she crossed unto the Cursed Grounds surrounding the vault. So he focused in on her to not miss the spot where she might enter.

But she'd already crossed when he arrived, her tracks covered by fresh snow.

He pulled the hood snugly on his head and started to skirt the edges of the Cursed Ground, to estimate its size.

Given it was a perfect circle and assuming the vault was in the centre, he calculated Crowley had to cover about four kilometres.

Afoot. With a two days old blessing to keep her warm. Confronted with freshly fallen snow and an approaching blizzard.

Forcing his worries down, Aziraphale returned to the place where Crowley had vanished. Hopefully, she would emerge there too.

He started to investigate the Cursed Ground. He could feel it radiating from below. _ Far _down below. It created a barrier an Angel could almost touch.

He carefully stretched out his hand, a feeling reminiscent of static danced over his gloved skin. He gritted his teeth and stretched a bit farther -

"_ Argh!" _

He drew back his hand immediately and cradled it to his chest. It felt like needles being driven into his skin. The sensation started on his fingers and scampered up his hand and arm.

Frantically he opened up his overcoat and pressed the fingers of his unhurt hand to his shoulder.

He flooded himself with a healing miracle. _Holy_ versus _Cursed_ energies raged on his arm until the stinging sensation left.

He wondered what would happen if he _stepped on_ it. If Crowley should happen to need him, he had to be prepared.

Aziraphale kneeled down, brought his hands together, bowed his head low and prayed

"Oh, Almighty, grant me your light, for my path is darkened by Evil", he recited the well-known words.

It wasn't a prayer to Her in the strict sense but rather a spell to gain more celestial energies and Aziraphale felt them wash over him.

He approached the boundary again and found it humming when he breached the surface. _No needles any more._ He pushed his other hand through, too. He placed carefully a foot onto it, followed by a swift movement to enter the Cursed Ground completely.

It tingled, but he didn't get burned. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. Aziraphale went on, testing whether or not the hellish influence increased the farther he crossed into the circle.

He turned around when he felt the borrowed energies fade.

Once outside, he miracled himself a slightly less cold spot and waited, blue eyes searching the vicinity for any signs of life.

Hours went by and Aziraphale grew uncomfortable. Angels were far more used to the cold than demons but by now, even he felt shivers creeping up his spine. He spread his wings to huddle them against his body.

He sat on the edge of the armchair he'd miracled himself some time ago. He closed his eyes and focused on Crowley. _Where are you?_ His senses expanded, trying to feel the familiar dent Crowleys presence made in the fabric of reality. _Crowley, where are you?_ He almost couldn't feel her through the background noise the Cursed Ground created, but she was still there. Aziraphale sighed with relief. _Crowley, dear, come back to me_ he tried to coax her. He rolled his shoulders and put more power to his own presence. _Come, find me!_ Aziraphale was aware of shining like a beacon to any celestial or occult being that might happen to be in the area. But he was willing to take risks, as he considered Crowley and himself the only entities around.

He was under the impression Crowleys power was diminishing. He directed his pull in the direction he assumed Crowley to be. _Hear me, Crowley, Serpent of Eden!_ He was scarcely aware it sounded like a prayer. _Love, please! Come to me... _He'd started to whisper the words along with his silent pleas. He banned the thoughts of blasphemy to the back of his head.

He lost track of how long he tried to coax a response to his attempts of contacting when he felt her stir.

"Thank God" he breathed out _ My dear, come back! _ Crowleys presence seemed to draw away again _ Please, stay focused. Please. Come back. COME BACK! _ he ordered and this time he succeeded. Crowley didn't seem to flicker anymore, grew stronger again. Aziraphale couldn't discern if she was in full power but he hoped for the best. At least she responded to his calls. Relief swamped him. She would come and then they'd be heading home to London.

* * *

It took her _ too long _. He could feel her moving through the wind and snow. Slowly but steadily she came near. Suddenly she changed directions. Rather than a straight line towards Aziraphales' flare-like form, she appeared to make a curve and went astray.

"What are you doing? Come _here_!" he demanded, but he wasn't sure anymore to reach her. She'd started to _flicker_ again and Aziraphale tried to guide her back on track. _Come on, you're almost done. It's not far anymore. I'm here, love!_

Panic rose in Aziraphales chest. He gritted his teeth and his request for additional powers

"Oh, Almighty, grant me your light, for my path is darkened by Evil"

He stepped into the circle without hesitation _"I'm coming, love"_

Inside, the wind blew even colder and more vicious. It tugged on his overcoat and threatened to pull off his hood. He shielded his eyes from sharp ice chrystals and put his pair of snow goggles on.

The wet snow sucked on his boots and slowed his progress.

_I'm coming, love, I'm almost at your side_ he promised in silence, more to reassure himself, than Crowley.

Aziraphale perceived her infernal power now clearly. He _should_ be able to see her, he was so near to her.

"Crowley?" he yelled against the storm. "Where are you?" he turned around himself but didn't see her. "Crowley!" he yelled once more against the howling wind.

A snowdrift shifted and something red and black shimmered through.

"Good Lord, please not!" Aziraphale prayed and started moving snow aside. Wet red hair stuck to a black overcoat. Tears started to form in his eyes when he saw blue lips and closed eyes, lashes covered with snowflakes. He drew her up in his arms and pulled the hood back over her head, miracling it dry. "Love, I'm here. Please, wake up" he begged, stroking her cheek, leaving warm trails in his wake. A small smile formed on her lips.

"Angel..." she mumbled inaudibly, her eyes still closed. Aziraphale pressed her close and willed her body from under the snow. He swept his hands over her clothes, dried and warmed them.

"Can you stand up, love? We need to get you out of here"

Crowleys eyes fluttered but remained closed "m-m... can't...ssso cold... ssso tired" she answered, words slurred and hissing.

Aziraphale pressed his lips on hers and breathed his warmth into her. She hummed appreciatingly.

Aziraphale wanted to lift her up "Lean on me" he ordered and Crowley shook her head indiscernibly "Can't ... cold... ... sssnake..."

His breath hitched when Aziraphale realized what she was implying. Her body was _stiff_. Her snake-like constitution had rendered her helpless.

"Oh, love..."

"'m sssorry, ZZZira...'m jussst...really tired..."

Aziraphale cradled her in his arms and shielded them from the snow with his wings.

"I will bless you and then we're going home." Crowley made a sound that could have been approving and dismissing together.

"I'm sorry it won't be as potent as it used to... This place is interfering with my powers", he apologized before he blew on her cheeks. She began to shiver. He took her left hand gently in his and pulled off the glove. He blew again, painfully aware that Crowley didn't react to the blessing as he expected. When he moved to the other hand Crowley finally opened her eyes. The golden pupils had expanded, leaving no room for white. Their usual mischievous sparkle was missing.

"'m ssso sssorry, angel..." she babbled, dull eyes searching his.

Aziraphale hesitated, trying to comprehend. "Not now, love. Please, save your strength" he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Her gaze darted towards their hands and she mumbled something Aziraphale couldn't understand.

He pulled off the heavy glove and turned her palm towards him. "_ Oh no _ ", he stroked her wrist gently "You had to pay a _ tribute _" he stated downcast. The wound wasn't bleeding any more, not because it had closed itself but for the rivulets of ice, it had turned into.

Aziraphale blessed her wrist, rubbed it and tried to warm the blue fingers but to no avail. He let go of her hand and leaned closer.

"I'm sorry, my dear..." he sobbed in her ear.

"...am too..." she murmured, voice filled with sleep "...need to go"

Aziraphale shook his head "I won't. I will stay with you"

"don't be sssilly... no need for you to dissss-" she tried to shook her head, to grasp a clear thought "-to.. disssssscorporate too..."

"I will not, I promise", he gestured toward the ground "I found a way to protect myself. I _will_ stay" he pressed another kiss on her lips and wiped tears from her face. He wasn't sure whether they were his or hers and he didn't care.

"ssso cold... pleassse, angel... do it" she begged.

Aziraphale swallowed down hard and closed his eyes. He pulled his grace up and carefully funnelled it to his fingertips.

He caressed her forehead and she sighed in relief. She leaned into the warmth of his celestial light. On her temple he hesitated "May I show you something?" she made a small motion that could have been a nod, so he concentrated.

He conjured memories. Really _old_ memories of lush green canopies, of the fragrance the first flowers in the morning emitted and of golden light shimmering lazily over heated stones.

"You told me once you lingered some time in the Garden before we met," he said, as he worked his magic. "I don't know, what you've seen of its vast scenery but this was my _favourite_ spot," he said, while his raw powers burnt slowly into her corporation.

The image in Crowleys head changed to a calm little pond, surrounded by high trees and low bushes. The sun had warmed the water and they felt it in Aziraphales memory under their fingers. They looked up to a cloudless sky, as rain was not yet invented and therefore no clouds could hinder the rays of light. Little colourful birds hopped in the twigs over their head and tried to out-perform each other. They made their way over to a raspberry bush and plucked one of the ripe fruits. They tasted it and the part of their joint minds that was Crowley chuckled lazily.

_It wasn't forbidden_ Aziraphale defended himself.

He felt the spiritual equivalent of a shaken head. Crowley tried to seize control of the memory and Aziraphale stepped metaphorically aside.

Their mutual vision blurred, as she struggled to share her recollections and Aziraphale allowed her the time she needed to gather her magic.

Vivid green leafage obstructed their view as they slithered along a branch. They tasted the air and took in the scent of wood and greenery. They hung themselves down the tree and Aziraphale realised they saw the same scene as before, but now from Crowleys point of view.

_You were there?_

Crowley wasn't able to answer any more, too focused to hold the image together.

They looked at the discarded flaming sword and to the Angel, tasting the fruits.

Aziraphale felt the Serpents curiosity for this odd Angel.

_Is this, why you talked to me on the wall?_

Crowley lost grip on the image and gave the impression of nodding.

Aziraphale felt the cold creep in again and hurriedly flooded Crowleys thoughts with his own recollections of sun and warmth, as he simultaneously burnt away her corporation.

_"I love you"_ he whispered and wept in silence.

He walked them through Eden until he felt Crowleys mind slip away peacefully.

_I love you..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	4. Burnt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all, for your kudos, subscriptions and comments <3  
It's all very appreciated!  
I'm sorry it took me so long to finish this chapter... Life happened... I was somehow stuck in the story and a plotbunny in the form of "The Creation of Adam" distracted me.  
But I managed and finished it, so here we are!  
I didn't check the historical facts of the Blitz and wrote what I considered fitting for my storytelling...  
Trigger warning for dying children

Crowley stumbled across the pavement. He needed to hurry. If his intel was correct - and it usually was - he had less than thirty minutes. He didn't have time and yet he had to stop and catch his breath.  _ Shit.  _ Leaning against a wall he took his glasses off, swept a hand over his face and into his short hair. This was  _ awful _ timing. 

Only three days since the last air raid had passed and he hadn't made a full recovery yet. His feet and legs still felt as if pierced by needles and the burning sensation still crept unto his hips. His little stroll into that church had taken its toll. Bloody  _ stupid  _ Nazis. Bloody oblivious and reckless Angel.

He pushed himself up from the wall and pulled his jacket closer. He had to hurry on. He was particularly eager to fulfil Hells recent order, as they seldom matched his intentions  _ so _ precisely. Save  _ children  _ from a fiery death? How could Crowley refuse?

_The children in custody of the Order of St. Beryl in London are destined to grow up and manipulate humans to our Master's delight. Evacuate the orphanage and send them to Tadfield, to claim their Souls for our side._

Admittedly, consigning children into the care of Satanic Nuns did not sound like the brightest idea... but first, they were  _ humans  _ with all their flaws and virtues and only then they were Satanists. The children were going to be adopted and would live the same normal lives as all the other children. Whatever  _ that _ meant, considering the current state of the world.

Crowley arrived at the orphanage and did not bother to knock before entering.

"Sister Mabyn!" he shouted and started immediately to draw a chalk circle on the floor of the entrance room.

Upstairs, doors slammed and feet shuffled over carpets. Frantic whispers were exchanged until an answer from behind a half-closed door was given

"Who's there?"

Crowley rolled his eyes, they did  _ not _ have time for this.

"Wake up the kids, I'm sending all of you to Tadfield. Contact Sister Lilith, say, you're coming through in a couple of minutes."

He heard more shuffling and louder whispers. Finally, an elderly woman in a black nightgown appeared at the head of the stairs. She eyed him with a frown and Crowley grumbled in annoyance.

"In approximately eight minutes, sirens will start blaring,-" he finished a smaller circle and began to divide it into seven parts, "-in thirteen minutes the first bombs will start to fall,-" he bent down over the circles and ignored his protesting legs "-and in less than twenty minutes y'all will be dead!" he snapped, while he inserted more signs and runes into the compartments.

She stood ramrod straight with shock and stared, mumbling "Master Crowley...?"

"Get. The. Children!" he ordered and gave weight to his words with a startling miracle.  She scurried away in a hurry, almost stumbling over. She seemed to remember immediately, that Master Crowley - though ever-so-gentle with the kids in her care - was indeed a Demon and a denizen of Hell. She belled orders to Sister Theodora who peeked shyly out of an empty door frame. 

Crowley sat back on his heels. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands on the recently drawn sigil. This was a less-than-optimal premise for creating a teleportation spell work... He'd drawn one  _ here _ , but Tadfield Manor had  _ none _ . It was like dialling an unplugged landline. He needed to  _ imagine _ a receiving end and hopefully, this would be enough to create one. 

He pulled his magic up and conjured a mental image of the entrance hall in Saint Beryl's. He felt the strain physically and almost toppled over to lay on the sigil. He re-imagined each stroke of chalk he'd drawn and added it to his vision of the wooden floor in Tadfield. He could  _ see  _ it take form. Could  _ feel  _ it sapping his power from him. He groaned. He was almost done.  _ Please, please, please... _ he requested from no one in particular. He felt his hands shaking and pushed against the need to curl up in a heap of coils, find a warm spot and sleep. 

With a hoarse shout, his wings burst out and supported the needed magic. His arms could not carry him any more and he crashed on the floor. Heaving he fought to stay awake.

Through the ringing in his ears, he heard distant noises. "Ma--ley" Somehow  _ urgent _ noises. They dripped into his sleepy mind until he recognised syllables "ma-ster-crow-ley". Syllables turned to words. Words strung themselves together in coherent sentences.

And someone was shaking him. Who _dared_ to lay a hand on him?

The ringing in his ears increased, as he opened his eyes. It was dark around him, the only light the glowing circle next to him. He lifted his head and groaned in pain.

Sister Mabyn pulled back her hand hastily and made the satanic version of crossing herself with a forced steady hand.

"Master Crowley! Please help!" she shouted over the ringing in his ears. He realized, that the noise was _also_ _on the_ _outside_ of his head. The sirens had started to wail.

He pushed himself farther up and into a sitting position.

He spotted the other nun, Sister Theodora, hiding some of the children behind her back. They stared at him with wide eyes. A small girl hid her face in the nightdress of the nun, shoulders shaking violently with muffled sobs, clutching a teddy bear tightly in her small arms.

They were clearly terrified.

He unintentionally flicked out his tongue to taste the air.

And _not only by_ the sirens, he understood with a start as Sister Theodora gasped.

He realized how he must look to them in the dim light emanating from the floor.

They saw black wings, shining like midnight. They saw golden eyes with slits instead of pupils. They saw inhuman sharp teeth beneath a forked tongue. They saw black talons on a man they _assumed_ to know.

They saw themselves confronted with a predator and shivered instinctively with fear.

He lowered his head in a non-threatening way and reached out to his glasses. He retracted the talons and with a wipe over his mouth, he realigned his teeth. Nothing to do about his eyes or tongue right now. And he could not muster the power to hide his wings.

As he put on his glasses, the humans exhaled collectively.

"Have you called Ssssisssster Lilissss?" he hissed - nothing to be changed about _that_ with a forked tongue - and Sister Mabyn nodded.

He mimicked her gesture and waved in the direction of the other nun and the children.

"Ssstep in pairssss into the circle. I'll transssport you to Tadfield." he pointed at the glowing sigil on the ground "Sssisster Ssseodora, you go with the firssst"

The nun hesitated, but Sister Mabyn nodded firmly "Do, as he says!"

Crowley gave her a once over. She'd recovered _really_ fast from her initial shock of being next to a _real_ entity of Darkness. Crowley had always assumed she was a practical one. A tough, no-nonsense kind of woman.

He liked her.

He grinned at her "You ssstay wisss your kidsss." he stated more than ordered.

"Of course," she nodded and crowded the kids around her as the first pair stepped unto the sigil and vanished to Tadfield.

Crowley gritted his teeth. He channelled more of his power into the sigil to keep it activated. He held his breath and closed his eyes once more. The next pair stepped in and vanished. Shivers went down his spine with every draught on his power. Another pair vanished. His fingers clenched and left small crescent-moons in the palms of his hands. And another pair. He felt nauseous and dizzy. How many-

_No! NO!_

His demonic powers gave him a small head start.

_ Hurry up! _

A beat with his wings and he was next to the humans. He hastily threw a miracle towards the roof. He grabbed the shrieking children and scooped them under his wings.

_ Just in time... _

The whole building shook with an explosion.

The ceiling rained down on them but the roof construction stayed mostly intact.

Crowley shielded the children and nun when falling debris hit his left wing. A sickening crunching sound mixed with his agonised scream.

Stars began to swirl in front of his eyes and for a moment he couldn't see any more. Pain raced from his wing over his shoulder, up his spine, into his head-, he stumbled and was brought to his knees, threatening to pitch forward-

But he didn't.

By the time the initial rush of pain subsided, Crowley opened his eyes again. He was leaning heavily on Sister Mabyn and one of the tall boys. The smaller children were huddled at their feet and sobbed in fear. Above them roared the noise of aircraft and in the streets around them erupted explosions.

Crowley knew their time was almost up and he shook his head in an infertile attempt to rid himself of the feeling of cotton wool. He succeeded in making himself nauseous.

"Ngh...", he groaned and gritted his teeth, "The nessst pair" he ordered and Sister Mabyn nodded sternly.

He relied on her as they moved towards the sigil, the humans still huddled under black wings.

Crowley pushed aside the unsettling feeling of  _ something _ dripping down his feathers. 

He almost _fell_ on his knees to touch the sigil and Sister Mabyn shoved the girl with the teddy bear and one of the boys in. But before he could work his magic to send them away, he got another split-second warning.

They were about to be hit by another bomb immediately and it was too late to redirect it.

He started to touch the children around him in a hurry. _Get safe!_ The tall boy, who had steadied him vanished. Sleepiness nipped at the edge of his consciousness and the sigil started to flicker. _Get Safe!_ The small boy vanished as well and little black dots began to dance in front of Crowley's golden eyes. _GET SAFE!_ He touched Sister Mabyn and whisked her off as well.

_Whereto_ he didn't know for sure, his only concern was their safety.

The little black dots were now taking more and more of his vision and part of him really wanted to give in to the temptation sleep provided. He wasn't sure how many more miracles he'd be able to perform.

He reached out to the children in the now inactive circle and wanted to grab the boy and girl- but they backed away screaming.

The loud crack of splintering wood filled the air and Crowley could do nothing to reach the children in time.

Debris rained down on them and Crowley raised his injured wings to protect himself.

The echoes of the explosions around them were ringing in his ears and made his head dizzy. Fires erupted and he tried hard to see through the smoke.

Something heavy dropped on his back and he heard the ugly sound of breaking bones, accompanied by the corresponding pain racing through his body.

The once little black dots took over his vision completely and he lost track of his surroundings.

When Crowley came to his senses again, the room around him was aflame.

His back hurt less than he'd anticipated, so he tried to get up but discovered he couldn't. More parts of the ceiling had fallen and had buried his back and legs. He tried to shove them away but couldn't muster the strength to move. He took in his injuries.

_Ah, that's why..._

Crowley sighed. He must have broken at least two ribs. Probably his legs too. And his back. Fortunately enough, the torn nerves in his spine were inhibiting the pain from reaching his brain. He felt bad enough as it was.

He had to stay, close his eyes and wait for his corporation to fail. It shouldn't take much longer, he assumed.

He coughed. And it hurt badly. So one of the ribs had pierced his lungs. This would accelerate his discorporation. He entertained the idea of miracling his nerve endings into non-existence, when he heard _it_.

_Oh no!_ He cursed under his breath. He had been so occupied with himself, that he forgot about the children. He heard it again. A quiet whimper, coming from the heap of bricks, where not so long ago his sigil had been.

He reached out mentally and found the mind of the little girl. He swallowed hard. She was alone. The boy didn't make it.

Her pain matched his and he touched her with mental fingers. Brushed softly against her thoughts and filled her with peace. He cut loose _her_ nerve endings. The whimper stopped and he sent the girl to sleep.

He knew she would not wake up again.

"That's not fair" he coughed, "you can't kill kids"

Silent tears fell down his cheeks.

"Please, don't order me back before this war is over," he begged.

Crowley didn't bother any more where his prayer went. Whether it floated up above the clouds or seeped away down beneath the ground. He couldn't care less. And probably no one was listening anyway.

He closed his eyes as the flames crept towards him.

* * *

Aziraphale stood at the entrance of his bookshop.

He'd made it a habit to look out on the streets whenever the sirens wailed. He let the faintest idea of safety waft across the streets. If someone was still on the streets and in need of a shelter, they would be drawn to the bookshop. He peered through the curtains but saw nobody. Maybe the humans were now used to finding quick shelter, he assumed sadly.

He turned around to renew the protecting miracles around his shop and stopped dead in his tracks.

Three pairs of eyes stared at him in shock. Had he drawn them into his shop without noticing?

"Hello there. Don't be afraid, you're safe!" he smiled.

"Are you an acquaintance of Master Crowley?"

His smile froze.  _ Oh no _ . This was bad.

Aziraphale arrived at the remains of the orphanage shortly after.

_"Are you still there?"_ he asked into the night and reached out. He found his Demon buried under what once was the ceiling of the hallway. With a flick of his wrist, the rubble lifted and Crowley groaned in pain. With another unconscious movement of his wrist, the flames around them died.

"Shh, I'm here, love" he assured and crouched down next to him. He worked his blessing over Crowley's back and pulled him unto his lap, as soon as he felt him relax.

"Angel..." Crowley hummed.

"Yes, Love, it's alright, I got you..." Aziraphale said silently. His tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth. Because of him, Crowley had insanely unprepared walked into a church and as always he had to pay the price for his kindness. Under normal circumstances he would have been able to miracle himself to safety "I am sorry"

"Not your fault.. angel..." Crowley answered, as if he followed Aziraphales unspoken thoughts "Usssed my magic for -" he coughed, "- for -" he coughed again and nodded weakly towards the rubble, where once the transportation circle was drawn.

"For the kids," Aziraphale stated softly as Crowley fell silent.

Crowley stared at the teddy bear, lying forgotten on the carpet. Once brown and beloved fur was now stained with dirt and soot, black and singed. Seams ripped open and stuffing spilling out. Forgotten and burning and -

Crowley coughed and shuddered.

"-'t wasss my fault, angel" he slurred " _ I _ didn't-" his voice broke.

Aziraphale placed a gentle hand over golden eyes to shut the world around them out.

"Don't do this to yourself. None of this is your fault" he whispered. "You did your best to save them..." He cradled him closer to his chest, careful not to jumble up his wings.

"Do you hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that" Aziraphale bit his lip and silent tears washed down his sooted cheeks. 

Crowley relaxed before another fit of coughing shook through his body. He ended up with blood on his lips.

"I am so sorry." Aziraphale apologized "I never seem to get to you in time..." gently, he wiped the blood away.

"Angel...?" Crowley spoke up again in a hoarse voice "Yes, Love?" "Sssin-" another spasm rendered him speechless.

But Aziraphale understood and nodded.

"I haven't sung in a very long time..." he whispered an apology.

He cleared his voice and swallowed. He opened his lips- and needed to clear his voice again.

He started an unsteady and low tune. Enochian syllables rolled from his tongue.

Crowley closed his eyes once more and listened to the enchanting melodies. He fell asleep.

_I love you._

* * *

Aziraphale stayed in the dark ruins, long after Crowley had passed away. He sat almost motionless, cradling the lifeless corporation of his beloved. Once more, his hands were stained by Crowley's blood.

"Mother, how could you ever reject him." he accused Her, eyes filled with tears and heart constricted in grief. "His soul is the gentlest one I've ever seen. Down here and in Heaven likewise. He did not deserve this fate."

Aziraphale was quite aware of his words. And if She decided to cast him from Heaven, too, he wouldn't care.

But if She listened - and in the back of his mind, buried deep behind faith and loyalty, Aziraphale sometimes couldn't help but wonder if She did even _that_ any more - so, if She listened, She did not respond to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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